


The Nice and Accurate AUs of Married Idiots

by LittleLynn, runicsecret



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel with the Demon Tattoo, Crowley Forgets to Actually Propose, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicsecret/pseuds/runicsecret
Summary: This is going to be a collection of ineffable husbands short fics.The tags will each correlate directly with a chapter title of the same name - and in the same order - so if you see a tag you like the sound of, find it in the chapter index!Every chapter is stand alone, and will vary in rating - the overall fic rating will go up alongside any more explict fics - but rating, warnings and a summary will be in the notes before each chapter, so no unwanted surprises.





	1. Crowley Forgets to Actually Propose

**Author's Note:**

> First off, a thanks to the GO server for inspiring me into creating this <3
> 
> This chapter is inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/kitsunebaba/status/1143478496468951041?s=21) beautiful piece of art by Luck Blue @Kitsunebaba on twitter!
> 
> Rated: G  
> Warnings: None  
> By: LittleLynn

Crowley felt a lot lighter than he had in the past, well, in the past in general. He’d lived a long time, it was difficult to pinpoint specifics. He certainly felt a lot lighter than he had in the recent past. 

“You’re in a jolly mood this morning.” Aziraphale said, looking up from his book as Crowley practically bounced around the bookshop, a smile on his face that anyone else would say was uncharacteristic, but not Aziraphale, because he had been the sole source of this particular smile for a few thousand years. 

“Oh yeah, mystery as to why.” Crowley snorted, affectionately mind you, and grinned at his angel, who somewhat bemusingly, gave him a bemused look.

It wasn’t as though Aziraphale didn’t  _ know  _ why he was in such a good mood. 

The day before was a bit of a blur, and there was that nagging feeling like he’d forgotten something, but Aziraphale must remember. Crowley just couldn’t recount the details, which was a shame really, he was struggling to remember Aziraphale’s exact reaction. 

Honestly yesterday was such a haze of anxiety that Crowley wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, or how he had done it, just that he had woken up in a much lighter mood this morning, which could only mean that he had Done the Deed. 

(The ‘deed’ being finally asking Aziraphale to marry him, in the human way, because the pair of them were very fond of human traditions, like naps, and dinner dates, and puppies. And there wasn’t a celestial - or demonic - equivalent, so human marriage was the solution.)

He couldn’t quite shake a nagging feeling that he had forgotten something though. Perhaps it was the ring, Aziraphale wasn’t wearing it. But he couldn’t very well  _ ask _ , because then Aziraphale would know that he was such a disaster he couldn’t even remember his own proposal. He had had a few drinks last night, to steel his nerves a bit, liquid courage and all that - why not pair one human tradition with another after all?

Crowley had briefly wondered if it wasn’t a little silly for him to want to marry Aziraphale, what with the pair of them being mostly immortal ancient creatures from the dawn of time. But then the apocalypse had looked a lot like it was going to happen and some things rather fell into perspective for Crowley. Such as how Aziraphale was just about the only thing that mattered to him and if the world was about to end then squeezing as much time with Aziraphale out of what was left - in Alpha Centauri if need be - was just about the only thing that mattered. 

So managing to live and still not spending every fleeting second of it with the angel would be a complete and utter waste.

And Aziraphale had never called him silly in his life anyway, even when he  _ was  _ being silly.

So they were going to get married, which was making Crowley happy for the extremely obvious reason, but he also found himself getting excited over the little details, like colour schemes and floral arrangements. 

He felt all of a suddenly as if he understood human women a little more than before. 

“Shall we go to the park today?” Aziraphale asked, peering out his musty window and into the sunshine, it only felt fitting that today was a sunny day.

“Whatever you want angel.” Crowley replied, Aziraphale turned and fixed him with a curious look. 

“Can we walk instead of drive?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Crowley reaffirmed, usually he liked giving Aziraphale a mild conniption with his driving, but holding Aziraphale’s hand on a walk to the park sounded nice to him too. 

“Well, in that case.” Aziraphale did an excited little wiggle as he went to grab a fresh book (as in not currently in his hand, not a single book in the shop was fresh in the sense of being new) and some lettuce for the ducks, Crowley just watched wondering how he got so lucky. 

Aziraphale blushed a little when Crowley took his hand, but that was nothing knew really, Crowley had been holding his hand and Aziraphale had been blushing over it for centuries. Crowley sincerely hoped he never stopped. 

During the walk Aziraphale chattered away happily, as he usually did, about the sunshine, and the nice temperature (warm without being stifling, a rare almost cloudless day in London), and the dogs they passed and the pretty summer dresses he saw. It was all rather nauseatingly angelic and had it been from anyone else Crowley was sure he would have grimaced and scoffed. Instead he just wondering at the logistics of getting Aziraphale a puppy. 

As they walked, Aziraphale’s hand steadfastly tucked into his own, 

Aziraphale stuttered over his words as Crowley rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand, Crowley didn’t stop, and after a pause Aziraphale carried on, with a new flush to his cheeks and smile tugging at his lips. Crowley wondered if they’d kissed last night. He was frustrated if they had, because with yesterday just a fog in his brain, he couldn’t remember, and their first proper kiss was something he really wanted to remember. But on the flip side, if he had proposed to Aziraphale, been accepted and then  _ not  _ kissed him, then Crowley wanted to invent time-travel solely to go back and kick his own arse. 

And it’s not like he could  _ ask _ , because then Aziraphale would know that he doesn’t remember, and he would look like the biggest idiot in all the cosmos. Not an option. 

An old car drove past them as they turned into the park, and Crowley idly wondered if he’d forgotten the keys to the Bentley somewhere, but they were still in his pocket when he checked. 

“Such a lovely day.” Aziraphale hummed, they had probably been in England for too long if they were making banal comments about the weather. 

“Yes.” Crowley agreed, and well, they liked England best was all. Possibly because by this point they fit in rather well.

They fed the ducks, Crowley sinking one on occasion just for the exasperated fondness in Aziraphale’s eyes, huff and expression when he raised them back up again. 

“Crowley. Don’t be cruel to the ducks.” Aziraphale scolded, Crowley tore off a larger section of lettuce to make up for it. 

Eventually they ran out of lettuce and concluded that the ducks would start sinking simply from being too fat if they continued to miracle up more food for them just because they enjoyed it. So instead they moved a little deeper into the park, found a miraculously free bench in the sunshine (miraculous because of nefarious interventions from Crowley making the couple who had been cuddled up on it have a sudden desire to go place some bets instead). Aziraphale didn’t rebuke him for the tempting, or try to thwart him, due to the fact that this was his favourite bench and he was glad to have it, as Crowley knew he would be. 

Aziraphale sat down and lifted his book up to set in for a quiet day of reading, Crowley spreading out on the bench with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, holding in something far too close to a purr when Aziraphale began stroking his hair. Though he supposed now he didn’t really have to hold in his happy noises. 

Lounging in the sun with Aziraphale, Crowley allowed his mind to really start racing. There was  _ so much _ to plan, their tastes in color pallet clashed almost as badly as their dancing did but he knew they would find a way around it. He’d always felt that Aziraphale complimented him perfectly because of all the ways they were different, as much as because of all of the quirks they shared. 

And honestly, it wasn’t like he’d put up a fight. If Aziraphale said that he wanted something, he would get it. If he told Crowley he wanted him to wear a baby pink tux and dye his hair blue Crowley would agree. 

“I was thinking like, an autumn wedding...not too cold, not too hot, you know?” Crowley said, gesturing at the sky a little, as if he could predict the weather, or make it behave. There was a pause from Aziraphale as he lowered his book and looked at Crowley curiously. 

“But we aren’t engaged.” 

Crowley froze for a moment and just blinked at the sky, once, twice, three times, and really let that sink in. 

“So that’s what I forgot to do yesterday?!” Crowley yelled, flipping onto his knees and all but climbing into Aziraphale’s lap in his clamour. 

“Pardon? Yesterday you were acting very jittery, got rather drunk and passed out on my sofa. Why, did you have a dream that you proposed?”

“No, I  _ planned _ to propose. I didn’t realise I hadn’t managed it!”

“Oh, well.” Aziraphale blushed deeply. “In that case I would be honoured to - ”

“No no! Not like this. This is not a proposal, this is a disaster. Go back to your book and act surprised when it does happen.”

“Very well dear.” Aziraphale agreed, smiling at Crowley so softly it almost hurt. Crowley flopped back down onto his back with his head in the angel’ lap and huffed, settling when Aziraphale’s fingers sunk back into his hair. 

Planning the perfect proposal didn’t get any easier just because he knew what Aziraphale was going to say. If anything that was making it harder, because it had to be  _ perfect _ . And he was making the angel wait for it now, after the mishap a few days earlier. So, really it had to be  _ big _ just to make up for it all. 

Crowley considered leaving a treasure trail of notes in Aziraphale’s favourite books that would eventually lead to a map taking him to his favourite dog park where he would find a puppy waiting for him who would have a ring box tied around his neck and then Aziraphale would turn around and find Crowley on his knee asking Aziraphale to marry him. But he decided he didn’t want spectators; earthly, heavenly, demonic or otherwise. 

So then Crowley began hatching a plan to propose to Aziraphale through an elaborate mixture of songs played through his Bentley on a romantic road trip to somewhere romantic in England (not that he was sure  _ where  _ was at all romantic in England mind you). However it then occurred to him that Aziraphale was so oblivious he was unlikely to notice. Also he would either be clinging on for dear life in the car if Crowley drove like usual, or be perpetually worried that Crowley was feeling under the weather if he drove more slowly for Aziraphale to pay attention to the music.

Next up Crowley considered the merits of a culinary proposal. He could write out ‘will you marry me’ in cakes, although he wasn’t sure he had the ability in the kitchen to bake that many cakes and miracle-ing his way to a perfect proposal seemed like cheating. Usually he was all for cheating, but he didn’t want to engage in any behaviour that might in any way taint the proposal in any way.

He then considered putting the ring inside the dinner itself, cooked expertly into the wellington or somesuch. However it then occurred to Crowley that Aziraphale would be just as likely to either break a tooth on the metal or accidentally swallow it, as he was to find it. That and proposing with a ring covered in food didn’t actually seem all that romantic. 

Crowley also thought about writing Aziraphale a book, containing all of the reasons why he wanted to marry him, every reason he loved him, all the different things he loved about Azirapahle, and ending the thing with the question  _ will you marry me _ . But Crowley knew that there wasn’t enough paper in the world to contain everything he loved about the angel, and writing such an endless book would make it far too long before Crowley proposed. 

So Crowley put that idea to the side as something to do in his spare time, and present Aziraphale with if he ever managed to finish such a mammoth undertaking. 

All in all it took him almost a month to finally come up with it.

He had booked out the Ritz entirely for a couple of evenings from now. It would be just the two of them, and he would propose to Aziraphale traditionally, at dinner, down on one knee, over expensive champagne and good food in one of their favourite places, but without the audience. 

Satisfied with his decision, Crowley turned his attention to buying a ring. He had decided that the one he had bought and  _ forgot _ to propose with was unlucky and therefore not deserving of an eternity on Aziraphale’s hand, and went to buy a new one. 

In comparison to planning out how to propose, buying a ring was extremely easy. He knew what Aziraphale liked, knew what he would find too ostentatious, what he would find too boring, knew that he would prefer a pearl to a diamond, knew how he would want it set into the band. 

So naturally Crowley took a dive into the ocean one afternoon and plucked a perfect white pearl directly from a mollusk. He took it - still dripping - to a jeweller who was so expensive Crowley assumed she must be good, and had the pearl set deeply into a wide rose gold band. 

After that, Friday night at the Ritz felt like it was going to take another six thousand years to arrive. As if they hadn’t waited long enough already. How some centuries could go by in a blink, and yet the three days between Crowley and Friday night stretched out like an impossible void of time, he would never understand. 

By Thursday night, Crowley was so hopped up waiting from Friday, that he barely noticed Aziraphale setting the table for them at home - and this was a rare occasion and usually when they wanted to eat, they ate out - and laying the places with extra care. 

Crowley noticed as Aziraphale lit the candles, the warm glow drawing his attention away from watching the clock - quite literally - and back to his angel. Who looked nervous as he collected a book from the desk and set it at one of the dinner places.

“Would you join me, my dear?” Aziraphale asked and Crowley smiled, taking the seat Aziraphale gently directed him to.

“This is very nice angel, special occasion?” Crowley asked, wondering if he had somehow missed something, it wasn’t as though they had birthdays to celebrate after all. Or an anniversary, yet. 

“Something like that. I regret that despite my fondness of food, I’ve never really mastered the skill, especially with these modern cooking contraptions,” Aziraphale said apologetically, as if the ancient stove from the forties in his kitchen could be considered modern. “But I know you have a penchant for Key Lime Pie, so I did my best, I hope it isn’t too bad.” Aziraphale said, presenting Crowley with a delightfully home-cooked looking slice of pie. 

“It looks delicious angel, but what’s it for?” Crowley asked, picking up his fork and taking a bite, making a deliberately lewd noise at the genuinely wonderful taste.

“Well, ah, I wanted to give you this.” Aziraphale replied, sliding the old book over to Crowley, who put down his fork and carefully picked it up - he knew how particular Aziraphale was about the handling of his books. 

He was surprised to see that the front of this book had been written over, usually a sacrilegious sin to Aziraphale.  _ The Documented Thoughts of the Principality Aziraphale _ has been scratched out with what looked like a quill, and replaced with  _ Things Crowley Should Know _ . Crowley looked up at the angel curiously. 

“Open it, it’s for you.” Aziraphale said nervously, chewing on his bottom lip, making it pinker than usual. 

Crowley did as he was told, and on the first page, wasn’t entirely sure what he was reading. 

_ Crowley is wearing his hair differently this century, much longer, I find I like it but am not sure why that matters _

_ Crowley visited me today, I find myself enjoying his company more than I likely should.  _

_ Today I found the demon tempting some poor thing into a bit of light theft, I thwarted him of course, but then I got the strangest feeling in my stomach when Crowley just smiled at me and said ‘hello angel’. These corporeal forms can be very confusing. And Crowley did not even  _

_ We argued about Motzart today, Crowley is of course entirely wrong about him, but the way he lights up when he is passionate is really quite beautiful _

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, dumbfounded. 

“They don’t have to be read in order of course. But the book is full.” Aziraphale said, and Crowley flicked forward to random pages, and true to the angel’s word, they were all full, all about him.

One read: _ I received a letter from Crowley today, I regret to think that one day I might lose it, so have tucked it carefully within the pages, for he is sweet with his words and I would not forget them so soon  _

Another:  _ Crowley kissed my knuckles today. A ridiculous little display of cheekiness no doubt designed to annoy. I wonder what it would feel like if it were not a jest. A part of me, more than I dare admit, wants him to mean it when he does such things _

Another: _ He saved my body, he saved my books, I wonder what else he has saved me from all these years. Heaven help me, but I love him, I love him, I love him.  _

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because it is important to me that you know how long I have loved you for. The truth I hid from so long was that I’ve been very much in love with you for a very long time. Because, my dear, I worry sometimes, that you do not know how deeply, how fully, and how completely I love you back.”

“Oh.” Crowley said, dumbly again. Aziraphale blushed prettily. 

“Yes, well. Perhaps you should go to the last page.” Aziraphale suggested. 

_ I find myself lying in wait each day for Crowley to ask me. The wait is killing me, I simply want the chance to say yes yes yes a thousand times over yes. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day, I know he is planning something, I know it will be beautiful and just slightly ridiculous.  _

_ I believe I saw part of his plan today, he was pouring over a book - a rare sight - perhaps books as involved in his plan? _

_ Ask so that I can say yes _

_ I have been six thousand years without a kiss and now he makes me wait longer, a demon indeed _

_ Today I came home to find Crowley covered in flour. I half expected to find a ring baked into a cake, but alas, today was not the day _

_ He choses  _ now _ to start going slowly? The one time I am impatient for haste! _

_ A thought struck me today, why must I wait for Crowley to propose? I am just as well equipped as he is to do it. Besides, I am so excited at the mere thought of being proposed to that doesn’t it follow that Crowley would enjoy the experience of being proposed to as well?  _

_ I’ve settled it with myself, I’m going to ask Crowley to marry me. The only question that remains, is how? I shall think on it for a few days. _

_ Ah, of course, I know how. _

_ Crowley my dear, will you marry me? _

Crowley read the last entry and looked up stunned. Every word in every language he knew suddenly stolen right off his tongue, and in its place a warm, stunned, impossible happy feeling took it’s place, filling Crowley up until he was nothing  _ but _ this wholly new feeling. 

“I regret that the invention of a proper book for writing took so long, or I would have started it much sooner. You see, you’ve always rather occupied my world, though occupied seems rather insufficient these days. Now you are at the very centre of my world, and there is nothing I would let anyone do to change that, my dear. So if it is acceptable to you, would you do me the honour of making me your husband?”

Crowley shook himself out of his silence and nodded his head a little manically. 

“Yes. Yes please. Angel. There is nothing I want more, which I suppose you know.”

“Well, it is still nice to hear. Now, may I please have the kiss you have withheld from me for a few thousand years.” Aziraphale asked, managing to sound both shy and indignant.

Crowley ducked forward, he’d never kissed anyone before, and he was fairly sure neither had Aziraphale. Their noses bumped, teeth knocked, smiles got in the way, and Crowley understood why humans were so very fond of the act. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos are beautiful and comments make the words keep flowing!
> 
> Feel free to drop me a prompt <3


	2. Angel with the Demon Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soulmate AU
> 
> Rated: T  
> Warnings: None  
> By: runicsecret
> 
> Excerpt:   
> They go through the normal ritual, which Crowley increasingly found pedantic. As they got to the end of the discussion, Hastur posited a question. 
> 
> “I do appreciate how these humans have fully encapsulated the question ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” Hastur said, staring blankly. 
> 
> Crowley blinked and looked over at him. This was the closest to personal the other demon had ever gotten to having with him, or really that any demon had. 
> 
> “How do you mean? I never quite took you for a Tennyson fan,” he said, trying to steer back towards the demonically safe waters of snark.
> 
> “There is no going back to love, but you never knew it, right?” Hastur asked somewhat earnestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank yous to @Imus_pyder on twitter for beta'ing it for me.
> 
> This is my first attempt at a Soulmate AU even thought they are some of my favorite to read. Please leave me feedback and comments as I'm immensely interested in getting better at this sort of thing. I have an adoration for these two characters and have for about half of my life now, so do be somewhat kind. 
> 
> Astrale is a name of my own making to give Crowley an identity. As much as I like the Raphael head canons, there wasn't enough time to unpack it here. I may use Astrale in the future for past life!Crowley as well. I quite like the name. Also, my strange crackship is Gabriel/Hastur, don't question it or @ me.

God created the universe, then the Angels. Then the Angels got to work, supporting God in all their work and small bits. As God watched their creations works so hard, they wanted to give them a reward. Thus, God established soulmates for all the existing Angels. 

Astrale was one of those Angels who had to have a soulmate made for him. The only way he knew it happened was the appearance of a small, gold tattoo upon his temple shining through his black hair that Gabriel commented on. 

“Oh! Lucky, yours has come about!” the other angel commented as he reached out mindlessly. He always did have poor sense of space. 

“I suppose so,” Astrale ducked back, “perhaps yours has as well with your eye change, now that you have fully solid color colored eyes. Anyway, I should get back to the stars.”

And with that he was off. While he kept his hair long, his tattoo was eternally apparent for others to see. It wasn’t as if he was in Heaven proper much, and when he was, he needed it to have as much exposure as possible so someone would realize they were meant to be connected. The next time he was around, Gabriel had located his soulmate, a principality named Haita, who had fully dark blue eyes to match Gabriel’s purple ones. When they saw one another there was a type of resonance, as if their eyes glowed. Each other angel that saw them, it was a slightly different shade, but it never was any less breathtaking. 

In fact, most of the Angels had luck in finding their soulmates. Astrale sighed and walked around, never slouching, before he was stopped. Nothing in the Heavens had been long, but with so many finding their others in such rapid succession, he felt a sense of defeat. 

“Oh, Astrale,” said a voice that was smooth, but with a hint of warmth, like cinnamon. 

“Lucifer. How have you been?”

“Well. While God makes the Earth, I form its lands. While God is the originator, it is I that man shall worship,” he said with a kinder smile than should be used in that moment. Astrale didn’t know why, but something unsettled him. 

“Have you found your soulmate?” he pushed, both curious if they had gotten paired together and hoping to change the topic.

“No, but I’m not looking. Silly business if you ask me. Angels are far too busy to have time for one another. Are you worried about yours?”

“In a sense,” the black-haired angel said, “I would quite enjoy having someone to routinely share the stories of the stars with.”

“Why would they have stories, Astrale?” Lucifer asked peculiarly. He then heard his name called by Haita, “Oh, I’m sorry, we will have to pick this conversation back up.”

Astrale nodded and turned away, continuing to walk. Was he too eager for his soulmate? Was that why God did not guide them together?

It would never be in Astrale’s knowledge, though, for not even a full cycle that we know as a day later, the Fall would begin. Among them, Astrale fell hard fast, and looking up at the sky he helped create. 

~’~

The garden was a lovely place, Crawly decided. It was far better than Hell. Lucifer regaled them with how fortunate they all were that he saved them and gave them a home. Fortunate they would never have to work. Crawly, even in a corporeal form, found it to be cold and reminded him of the fall. Also, he was surrounded by all these faces that were familiar but with no memories behind them. They were just empty husks. 

So when a mission on Earth became available, he jumped. He was given this name, as he did not have one before, and also made into a snake. He was quickly able to imagine his new corporeal form and shift back and forth, much to the delight of Lord Beezlebub, as she was calling herself suddenly. His hair was red and he did not know where this tattoo on his face came from, and he couldn’t get rid of the serpent eyes, but other than that they said he was the most human looking of the lot. 

He gazed around and saw his fellow demons as they were suddenly. Gone were their wings, bright eyes, and glowing skin, only to be replaced with severe deformities, attachments or alterations. They all seemed quite proud of them, though. He did not get it and went back to snake form before making his way Earth-side for the first time. 

The first thing he could sense were the humans. They were simple beings. Both together and separate, they were fine, and Crawly found that to be majestic. As it shifted to night, they laid together and watched the night sky and he looked up with them. Who did that, he wondered? Did they have a goal as it all seemed to just be dots scattered about all over the place? 

The next day as Adam left, Crawly sat with Eve and told her of a life outside the garden and how much more they could see, explained how an apple was to taste and would be lovely against her tongue. Did the snake know? Surely not. But he did not wish to return to Hell a failure, and perhaps if he did, well, they may allow him to say here in the warm. She seemed dubious and he left her to think about it as he heard Adam return. 

He then sensed another Angel in the Garden. Well, that isn’t right, is it? Couldn’t be another Angel, for that is not what he was. Another higher being, then. He slithered around until he got close enough to see the Angel walking the interior of the Eastern Wall, flaming sword in hand. Crawly blinked, eyes going wide before softening as the Angel turned away to walk the path again, cloth flowing up between his wings to reveal a bit of silver light. 

“Nemesisss,” he hissed, and resolved to complete his mission. 

~`~

After the garden and Crawly met with the Angel known as Aziraphale multiple times to discuss their shared business and interests. Some time in the early 1600s, while at a performance of _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ , Aziraphale sat beside him. 

“I don’t understand your attachment to these comedies,” huffed the blonde man. He was dressed in light-colored clothing that highlighted his fair complexion somehow. 

“Oh, Aziraphale, everything winds up good in the end and people find the solution through making choices. It is like the best of both our sides,” the red-haired man replied. 

On stage, actors dallied about, one dressed up as a woman and proclaiming that she should be able to do as she pleased. Who dared made decision for her, after all?

“You can’t for one moment believe that the Almighty would have wanted any man to just keep making decisions for women forever? In fact, you could say Eve was the first decision-maker.”

“Which is why men, thanks to some awfully loft theologians, unfortunately point to women as unable to make decisions,” the angel said, face staring forward. 

“Then what about love, does Rosalind not have a right to love?”

Crowley grinned. He thought he had captured the being of love in a catch-22. How could the angel ever deny any being love, afterall? 

“Perhaps if she would slow down, she would find her soulmate in front of her. Perhaps her self-love is too high,” the angel said pointedly.

Crowley’s shoulders fell and he resisted the urge to reach up and touch his mark. “Right, soulmate. I suppose you know all about that.”

“No, why would I?” Aziraphale finally turned to Crowley with a confused expression. 

“No reason, just thought it was a thing Heaven set up. You know, true love and all that,” Crowley quickly recovered. Did the angel not know he had a soulmate out there somewhere? Had Aziraphale never found his? Or did he find his pre-fall and forget?

“I know some others talk about their soulmates wistfully. I’ve caught Gabriel doing so a number of times, as though he is missing something, but it isn’t something they teach you in ‘Angel 101’.”

Crowley laughed, “There was ‘Angel 101’ when you came about?”

“Oh yes, it was most helpful,” he said with a smile. 

Crowley just sighed and watched some more of the play. It seemed as though any discussion of soulmates with this Angel would be pointless after all. When he was certain that he was no longer being paid attention to, he reached up and traced the serpent pattern at his temple. He really should just give up. 

~`~

The 1800s were generally boring for Crowley. Honestly, humans had found ways to get themselves into trouble and he just had to exist enough to cause chaos. 

Apparently that was not enough for the head office. 

Hastur came for a visit and insists it is at midnight in a cemetery of course. Such a typical demon thing; didn’t he realize they could do things so much more fashionably at this point and be far more comfortable? Regardless, Crowley went to meet the Duke of Hell, dressing down a bit to at least leave the top hat and finer shoes at home, along with the walking cane he would traditionally use for the daily leisurely strolls through parks or to sit in the finer restaurants. 

“All hail Satan,” the black eyed demon greeted.

“All hail Satan,” Crowley responded in a softer tone. 

They go through the normal ritual, which Crowley increasingly found pedantic. As they got to the end of the discussion, Hastur posited a question. 

“I do appreciate how these humans have fully encapsulated the question ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” Hasture said, staring blankly. 

Crowley blinked and looked over at him. This was the closest to personal the other demon had ever gotten to having with him, or really that any demon had. 

“How do you mean? I never quite took you for a Tennyson fan,” he said, trying to steer back towards the demonically safe waters of snark.

“There is no going back to love, but you never knew it, right?” Hastur asked somewhat earnestly.

Crowley’s eyes shifted to the side his mark was on. Were they really having this conversation so suddenly? 

“Yes, that is what I’m referencing.”

“Then no, I never found my match.”

“Then, do you hurt the same as I, who knows who my love is but is scorned by them on the other side? Who knows that one day we will most likely go to war with the other half I still dream about and either kill or be killed by them?” Hastur said with the level of force that was far more expected of a demon. 

“I feel as though I have some part of me was never completed. I do not know if it is the same level of hurt or the same type of hurt, but there is hurt,” Crowley returned with a touch of skepticism. 

Hastur nodded, seemingly understanding that answer. He closed his black eyes, took a deep breath, hoping that the picture from the beginning of time may be clear. Or maybe hoping to wipe that picture clean. 

“I can remember him like it was yesterday. Him and his perfect eyes. And how he complemented mine. Why did it happen like this?”

“What...um...What was his name?” Crowley cautiously asked. 

“Gabriel. I was the soulmate of the Archangel Gabriel himself,” Hastur said solemnly. 

“Yeah, I can’t see him being one for bending rules,” Crowley said, thinking of Aziraphale, then quickly stopping, as if Hastur would pick up on it. 

“So you can see where I can relate to this human sentiment,” Hastur said, voice slowly returning to the more bland demon tones. 

“I suppose so.”

“Anyway, figure out how to mess things up more or things might not remain so pleasant for you up here.”

And with that, Hastur disappeared into the ground. Crowley turned and put his head in his hands with multiple thoughts running through his head. Did he just drop all thoughts of knowing his soulmate was out there, that he should know who that is? Was it better to not know who that was, so that he didn’t have to feel the level of pain that Hastur felt, that Gabriel may feel deep down?

Plus, now it seemed he had to start planning for the inevitable war or the inevitable time when hell came after him for not being the perfect demon. All he wanted to do was to sit in St. James Park with Aziraphale and watch people and feed the ducks. 

~`~

The ride home from Tadfield after the end of the world was awkward at best. Anathema offered the cottage, but Aziraphale and Crowley both wanted to get back to London and get back to work. When Anathema asked them what work, Aziraphale said that while the Earth was protected, they as entities were not and showed her the prophecy. 

“Oh, yeah. We didn’t think it pertained to the family and now from what I know, our notes aren’t even helpful. It all had to do with disguises,” she grimaced. 

So now, here they were, on the bus, both completely exhausted in more ways than one. 

“Say, Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?” 

Aziraphale paused, as if trying to put his thoughts together. He wasn’t used to the Angel needing to think through things so much and that was unsettling in it own right. He looked down and saw his hands fidgeting. 

“Do you think, when we are all done with this, and of course if we quite survive, you could, ah, I mean to say, my dear boy, give me that, well, missing lesson?”

“Just what are you on about, angel? Please forgive me if my brain isn’t following you,” Crowley said with a sigh. 

“Well, all that time ago, when we spoke during one of Shakespeare’s plays...the comedy you like…”

“‘As You Like It’?’ he posited for the Angel.

“Quite. Well, I mentioned that they left some items off of Angel 101, and you said that you never went through it. So, perhaps I could go through all of Angel 101 with you and you could fill in the gaps,” Aziraphale finally finished, still not quite getting to the point. 

Crowley looked up and sighed. “Angel, all I remember of being an Angel is feeling empty, and for some reason in the approximately 6000 years I’ve known you I’ve felt less so. But, my mark reacts no differently now than it did then and you seem to influence it it no way and you seem to have had no registration as to what it was, so I leave it at that.” 

“Thus,” Crowley continued now shifting his face to look out the window “perhaps I was given a mark before my soulmate was fully formed and then fell and it is part of my punishment or it is some cruel joke God has decided to play that whoever has the mark finds me repulsive enough to not tell me.”

He watched his reflection shift in the window as the scenery outside changed and slowly Aziraphale’s face also came into view. His eyes looked sad and longing, but his face was tired and worn. If they aged at all, you could say they were both probably about 15 years older, but it could also be a trick of the light. 

“I’ve never found any such mark. I’ve never really had anyone talk to me about it. The Angels at headquarters are, well generally quiet about anything. The lower Angels, many of them have their beloveds around them, but have had them for seemingly ever.”

Aziraphale paused and leaned his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder, his hand shifting forward to settle on the demon’s bicep. “One thing at a time, though, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Crowley whispered as he watched their colors blend and bend in the lights against the window. “That one thing, though, angel; what if we fix it here and now? The immediate problem facing us.” 

And thus, they sat like that, scheming and walking through the starting of a plan over and over again all the way back to London. They would walk through the fires of Hell and be bathed in the waters of Heaven and come out stronger than before. With that resolve from both of them, even if Crowley didn’t notice it, the skin around his mark knitted together as though attempting to scab over. 

~`~

Seven years after the Apacoldidn’t, as Adam liked to call it, and he was off to London. At least temporarily. He felt that maybe getting an education elsewhere would be good. Plus, having his favorite family members nearby would be handy. Aziraphale was even lending him a room above the bookshop for free! Which his parents quite liked. 

But he felt like something was off. Crowley and Aziraphale always came to visit him together, always ate together, always walked together, but weren’t actually, well, together. All this time, no more Heaven and Hell, and yet they were still restrained. 

So on this Saturday, sitting in the shop, while Crowley watched something on his phone and Aziraphale inventoried some new books, he came right out with it. 

“Why don’t you two just make this,” Adam said gesturing around the two of them from the couch as they sat in their two favorite chairs, “official?”

Phone dropped. 

Pen bounced against the floor and a paper fluttered. 

  
The two beings turned their head towards the young man. While Adam had certainly become their favorite being outside of themselves, they did not let him in to see much of their internal workings, either as friends or individuals. It was just better that was as they did not know exactly what to expect for Adam’s lifespan. Or, the more real reason, they themselves did not have the slightest idea how they worked as a unit beyond lunches and walks and understanding each other more than any demon and angel should. 

“Well, young man,” Aziraphale started, and stuttered worse than a father about to give The Talk, “it is not just that simple.”

“I’ve seen you two touch, so if you go the next step you explode?”

Crowley laughed, “Not that we know of, but that isn’t it.”

He brushed out his red hair that he had let get a little long and pointed to the ever-familiar mark. Aziraphale brought over a chair, for even after their discussion on the bus, they had never gotten around to this discussion. 

“God wanted to reward the Angels. Thus, God decided we would all get soulmates. It’s a bit more convoluted than the human notions of soulmates, as we have these handy marks here,” he tapped the snake shape, “to tell us who ours are. I never found mine before the fall.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, like a child being told of Christmas. Adam just nodded along at the appropriate points. Sometimes, to him, God seemed like a real jerk despite whatever relation they were. Or perhaps he could see it because they were related. 

“Many Angels and Demons were torn apart. One pair I know about for sure are Hastur and Gabriel. Their eyes were their marks. Demon’s marks even changed about the fall. Hastur’s eyes changed color. My mark here went from being gold to black. The Angels, however, seemed to keep their general appearance, right down to maintaining the beauty of their marks,” he said wistfully. 

“However, they seemed to stop getting marks after the Fall, like this one here,” Crowley said, jabbing his thumb in Aziraphale’s direction. 

“Well, I didn’t quite say that, my dear boy.”

“So if Aziraphale doesn’t have a soulmate and you don’t know who yours is, what is stopping you two?” Adam asked like they were making a big deal out of it. 

“I have just never been told of a mark, Adam,” the blonde hair man supplied. 

“What?” The two others said. 

“Well, I suppose it is possible it is elsewhere?”

“Up, let’s go,” Adam urged, jumping up from the couch, suddenly thinking he may go into psychology. 

“Go where, young man?”

“The bathroom. Where you shall undress. And we shall investigate this mark. Crowley, stay and phone...something,” Adam suggested hurriedly, focusing mostly on pushing Aziraphale up the stairs before either entity changed their minds. 

“This is most untraditional,” the angel trailed off as Crowley sat there, ears turning a red that quite complemented his hair. 

He could still hear muffled sounds as Adam made Aziraphale get undressed, and apparently didn’t hang up the beloved coat and vest in a manner that would keep with not leaving wrinkles. He could not believe that it was taking an eighteen-year old Antichrist to actually prompt this conversation. 

They had gone through Heaven and Hell, quite literally as one another, figured out how to get said Heaven and Hell to leave them alone while continuing to maintain the Earth in balance, and made the Antichrist a little less “Anti-” and a little more “Christ...y”? Yet they kept putting off this conversation, and maybe if they had decided to have a more complete version of the conversation, they would have gotten somewhere sooner. 

Instead, there was now a brown-haired young man running down the stairs with a phone out. And when the Antichrist puts his hand on your head and moves it, you just let him do so. And when you hear a click of a camera phone and a grumble about hair being in the way, you mechanically move your red hair off to the side so he can say his thanks, try again, just to let go with almost more force and bound back up the stairs. 

Then, even though the moments felt like for-fucking-ever, Adam proclaimed “I KNEW IT!”

“Knew what?” Crowley yelled up the stairs and he could hear Aziraphale scream something similar.

Adam’s head poked out from the door, “Hey, start coming up the stairs.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and lifted an eyebrow, realizing that it didn’t matter with sunglasses on. 

“Just c’mon, its fine. I mean, it has been so far.”

“Fine,” the demon huffed and pushed off the couch. 

He glided to the stairs and started his way up them, but his foot just stopped on the first one. What if this was it? What if he finally had his soulmate? Or what if he was getting his hopes up for nothing? It was Aziraphale. 

That was another thing. Would Aziraphale want anything to change? Was there a need for change? Crowley didn’t know. He was a demon, he didn’t know love. His fingers traced over his mark again. _Right, didn’t know love?_ He thought back to Hastur and their weird conversation over Alfred Lord Tennyson. What an awkward thought there, that Hastur certainly did know and remember love. Hell, he even seemed to miss it. 

“What are you waiting for?” Adam said, obviously more excited than either of his de facto family members in this moment. 

“Just lost in thought, kid,” Crowley said.

Adam disappeared when he seemed confident that Crowley was going to continue on up. 

What he saw was Adam holding a mirror behind Aziraphale, just under where his wing joint would have been, and Aziraphale with another mirror so he could see the reflection. The image being bounced back and forth was a silver serpent mark, identical to the one on Crowley’s temple. 

The demon allowed himself to slump down in the frame of the door and his head to drop. Everything was fine, great even. He had found his soulmate. His love. Or rather, his love would be realized. He hoped that was the case. 

“It started glowing brighter as you got closer. It was wicked,” Adam chimed in, placing the mirror down on the sink. “I knew it was you two.God wouldn’t be quite that cruel.”

“Well, we are not to judge the Almighty’s decision on this,” the angel said with a stutter, looking anywhere but at Crowley as he placed the mirror down and reached for his shirt. 

“Part of the ineffable plan, probably, angel.”

Crowley smirked and nudged his head at Adam. He rolled his eyes, because for being considered an adult there was still some residual immaturity left over. The demon walked in and shut the door, putting a cool finger against the warm mark on Aziraphale’s back. The other man shivered slightly.

“All this time you’ve been right here,” the demon whispered.

“Yes, well, things hardly need to change.”

“Can they change slowly? I know I can move fast, but,” Crowley stopped, realizing that he hadn’t stopped touching his angel. 

Aziraphale turned around, bright eyes full of tears. He didn’t look upset, just overwhelmed by the events of the past hour. The angel wiped the tears away and looked at Crowley in the doorway. 

“I’m not sure what to feel right now. Soulmates. Like I said, no one ever told me what to expect.” 

“I don’t quite know what to expect either, but why would I want to confirm love and lose it rather than never love at all?”

Aziraphale flinched in surprise at the sudden poetry, “My boy, did you just quote Tennyson at me?” 

“Something like it. Didn’t think it would come in handy like this, angel,” Crowley grumbled, suddenly bashful of his existence in the room. As if on cue, the Angel stepped up closer to him, putting a finger under his chin. 

“When did you ever read Tennyson?”

“A...an acquaintance apparently did while dealing with the loss of their own soulmate. Apparently helped them. Their question has stuck with me since then.”

Their eyes were level with one another and in his peripheral, Crowley could see Aziraphale reaching to take his sunglasses off. He made no motion to stop him, hoping that it would show him how much this meant, how much he meant to him. The demon had wanted to exist in some capacity with the Angel since the end of the rather anticlimactic apocalypse, soulmates or not. Now thanks to the Antichrist that was an even greater possibility. The sunglasses came off and Crowley didn’t even care about the assault of light on his eyes, he just kept Aziraphale in focus.

“Then, let us move forward, but at the mortal pace? I’d say we have gone on dates, yes, my dear boy?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Well, you could say that we have wined and dined one another, yes.”

“Then what is next?”

“YOU KISS YOU IDIOT IMMORTALS!” said an overly excited voice from just on the other side of the door. They both turned red, Crowley’s ears lighting aflame and Aziraphale’s chest even becoming tinged. 

“Do we even know if we can?” Aziraphale asked.

“Honestly, angel, I don’t care. At best it will be the best burn ever and at worst the Almighty will smite me where I stand.”

“Then, as the Antichrist commands, I suppose?”

“We spoil him,” Crowley chuckled as he snaked his arms around Aziraphale’s soft waist. 

“We haven’t had anywhere else to direct it to, dear heart,” the blonde responded, allowing his hands to run up the demon’s arms and rest on his shoulders. 

“Perhaps that can change. And is that a change in nickname, angel?” he whispered as he inched closer, able to feel the warmth radiating off Aziraphale’s lips. 

“I haven’t settled on one, yet.”

And with that their lips finally met. And there was no holy smiting or burning. There were the pleasant tingling of happiness and the odd smell of books and dirt. 

“Uhh, guys?” Adam said, poking his head back in through the door. 

They jumped apart and Aziraphale miracled his clothes back on, any redness that had subsided coming back in full force. Crowley thought, in the back of his mind, that he suddenly discovered the reason divorces due to lust had gone down: children ruining relationships.

“I don’t really care what you do, its your house Aziraphale,” Adam said a bit more quickly than he would have normally, “but could I get what this means as far as I’m concerned?” 

Adam was mostly concerned about the impact of his two occult dads perhaps moving in with one another when there certainly was not a lot of space above the bookshop. In fact, one could say, Adam had suddenly begun to regret his actions in the past fifteen to thirty minutes, but he neither tried to let on nor did Angel or Demon pick up on it. 

“Nothing. At least it shouldn’t. Unless you are going to concoct some plan to become Heaven and Hell’s matchmaker to reunite all the torn-apart soulmates,” Crowley said with a bit of a bite, mostly wanting the boy gone for now.

“Seems like a good job for the Antichrist, really. If not to wreck human life, maybe to wreck Heaven and Hell?”

“Ineffable plan indeed,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“Can we get, like, at least ten years to ourselves before you go moving things around on us?” Crowley pleaded, taking the Angel’s hand in his own and squeezing gently. 

“Sure, gives me time to get a psychology degree and use you two love birds as examples. Oh, Brian is going to be thrilled to figure out a wedding!” he exclaimed as he left the room once again and ran down the stairs. 

“Don’t you dare, Young!” Crowley yelled after him. 

“And no running in the bookshop!”

“Parenting, eh?” Crowley said with a smirk.

“Yes, love. Now, can we try that again?”

“Particularly if we can try that name on for a longer stay.”

And they stayed like that for sometime, stuck in the door frame, just simply touching each other in the most innocent of ways, ways that the Ritz staff probably thought they had done a million times by now. Bit by bit, the black around Crowley’s mark flaked off, like a snake shedding skin, and a new, golden light shone through, Aziraphale having had no idea in the aid he was providing on the matter each time he ran his hand up through the demon’s hair against his temple. 


End file.
